


Code: Pineapple

by FalseRoar



Series: Can You Wake Up? [13]
Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Detectives, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Pizza, Post-Who Killed Markiplier?, Shut Up Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 05:11:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20522489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalseRoar/pseuds/FalseRoar
Summary: A followup story to Not Your Case, where Abe and Y/N try to spend some time together that doesn't involve a case of some kind (and fail).





	Code: Pineapple

Abe pushed his plate away as he sat back with a satisfied sigh and gave you a lopsided grin. “Gotta say, this wasn’t a bad idea, Partner.”

“You found the place,” you said before taking the last bite of your own slice of pizza. You had never heard of or even noticed the place before, but this diner Abe picked sure knew how to make a good pizza. The two of you must have caught them in between rushes, because at the moment you were the only ones in the diner aside from the staff and a jukebox that seemed to only contain popular songs from the 70s and 80s. Somewhere in the back someone was singing loud and off-key to “I Will Survive,” but otherwise the place had a quiet and relaxed atmosphere.

“Yeah, the pizza’s not half bad, but I meant just spending some time together. Not on a case, I mean.”

“When’s the last time that happened?” you asked, cracking a smile.

Was there a last time, though? You really couldn’t drudge up a memory of time spent with Abe that didn’t involve a case or some life and death situation outside of your “birthday” party. Heck, this was the first time you two were alone together without the others where he didn’t insist on you wearing a bulletproof vest, just in case.

“I don’t think going to John’s house counted,” you added aloud and Abe suddenly coughed.

“Yeah, uh, no. Definitely not. Let’s never speak of it again. Hey, do you want some more soda?”

“No, I—” you started, but Abe was gone with both your glass and his. You watched him check around to make sure the only waiter in the place was still in the back before leaning over the counter to get to the soda fountain and frowned. He really was trying to avoid talking about it, not that you could blame him.

“Thanks,” you said as you took the glass, resisting the urge to give the drink a suspicious sniff before you added, “You know, we don’t always have to be on a case. If you ever just want to spend time together, we can.”

He hesitated, glancing down at his glass before giving you an unsure smile. “Of course, I know that. There’s plenty of other things to do, like…uh…”

You waited, but it soon became clear that nothing was going to follow.

“Abe? What do you do when you’re not on a case?”

He took a long, slow sip of his drink only to pull back and give the glass a suspicious look before putting it down with a louder than necessary thump. “Well, you know how it is, so many cases, there’s barely any downtime…”

“You work freelance though, you can choose how many cases you take on at once.”

He coughed again. “But, uh, it doesn’t leave time for much. Sometimes I get together with the Chef and Ben—er, Tyler and play cards. Watch movies at home. Sometimes, I, uh, read.”

“Mystery novels?” you guessed.

“Agatha Christie and Raymond Chandler are gems,” he said, although his expression after that suggested he maybe didn’t plan to sound as defensive as he did.

“Do you ever actually get out?” you asked.

“I get out plenty on cases,” Abe said. He gestured at the diner around you and pointed out, “I go out all the time with you!”

There was a pause and he added, “Professionally. Going out professionally. Wait—”

He stopped, flustered, and continued in a rush, “The point is I’m happy spending all my time on my work, now that I’m not wasting all my time chasing the Colonel I can really get down to business and get things done. Heels to the pavement, sniffing out clues, that’s the real stuff.”

He beamed at you and you returned the smile without the same intensity. Sure, you were glad that Abe enjoyed his work, and you had more than enough fun helping him when you could, but you couldn’t imagine that doing the same thing, day after day, could be good for anyone no matter how much they loved their job.

“You said you watched movies. Maybe someday we could catch something in the theater?” you suggested. “There’s a Pokemon movie I really think you’ll like—”

“No, absolutely not,” Abe interrupted. “As much as I love me some Ryan Reynolds, I lost a partner at the theater once. Dart to the neck, in the dark. Wasn’t until intermission any of us realized something was wrong.”

“Okay, wrong kind of theater, and I’m pretty sure that won’t happen again,” you said. When Abe looked less than convinced, you said, “Well, maybe we could play cards with the guys, give you an excuse to spend more time with them?”

“Because that turned out so well last time,” Abe answered. “Besides, the Chef kind of hates you.”

“He kind of hates everyone.”

He nodded to that but said, “Still a no.”

“We could go for a hike sometime, there’s—”

“Lost a partner in the woods. Literally _and_ figuratively.”

“Bowling?”

“Have you ever seen what a bowling ball can do to the human skull? Because I have and—"

“We could go to the museum.”

“I thought the point of this was to avoid work? Because that place is a heist waiting to happen. If you want, we could look the place over and give the security some tips—”

“Okay, so no on that one.” You sighed and tapped your finger on the top of the plastic table. There had to be _something_ Abe would be interested in that didn’t involve a case and wouldn’t bring up any memories of lost partners.

Abe shook his head. “Why are you so worried about this? It’s not like we have to decide on something now, right?”

“Well, yeah, I guess so—”

“And this was fun. No crooks, no criminals, no case. Just you and me, and some pizza…In the world’s quietest diner…”

He looked around, frowning at the empty tables around the place, and glanced at his watch before shrugging and looking back at you.

You met his eyes and smiled. “Yeah, you’re right. We should just enjoy this moment, maybe—”

“Maybe, since we do have some time, we could look at something together?” Abe suggested. Before you could respond, he was opening up his briefcase (how did you miss him bringing that in?) and pulling out a folder thick with papers and photos, paperclips all around the edges. It almost looked professional, except you could clearly see the other things in his briefcase included a pair of fresh underwear and socks and an apparently never used shaving kit. With one arm he shoved the plates and empty pizza platter out of the way so that he could lay the open folder on the table in between you.

“Abe…”

“It’s not a case, it’s just a little…brainstorming,” Abe said. “Look, the cops are spread thin and they just need a lead on to go on finding the gang who’s committed a couple of recent armed bank robberies. We don’t have to actually get involved. No stakeouts, no arrests, nothing like that.”

He looked up at you with those big brown puppy dog eyes and added, “…Please?”

You sighed. “Fine.”

The word barely left your mouth before he smiled again and began spreading out notes on the banks, witness testimonies, maps of the area, and a couple of photos that caught your eye as he went on a breathless breakdown on how the banks were robbed and the little the police knew.

“What’s this?” you asked, pulling the photos in question closer.

“Stills from the security cameras,” Abe said. He pointed at the top one and said, “All of the men were masked, of course, and the only distinguishing feature caught on camera is this tattoo.”

He pointed at a blurry zoom in that caught part of one of the thieves’ wrist, exposed between the glove and sleeve as he reached across the counter to pick up a bag filled by one of the tellers.

Abe rummaged around in the folder and came up with another paper, this one a drawing, which he said was an, “Artist rendering of the tattoo, based on what the witnesses saw. Apparently, all of the gang had a similar tattoo somewhere on them, but this is the only one caught on camera.”

You stared at the drawing of the snake wielding a knife and said, “This style…”

“Definitely unique, that shading and line use. Bet if we could find the tattoo artist, we could find our guys.” Abe paused and added, “I mean, let the police find them. We’re not going anywhere near these guys.”

“Yeah, about that…” you said weakly. “How, uh, common do you think this tattoo would be?”

“I don’t know, not very?” Abe shrugged and added as he started digging through the folder again, “But the odds of finding the right artist aren’t great, so if we had something else to go on—”

Abe continued talking as you studied the drawing. It was a very distinctive tattoo, and one you had seen on the wrist of your waiter when he brought your pizza to the table. The same waiter whose voice was getting closer to the swinging doors that separated the kitchen from the dining area, his voice raised as he said something to the chef but otherwise difficult to make out under the sound of “I’m Not In Love” playing from the jukebox.

Meanwhile, Abe was talking loudly about the robberies without a care in the world.

“Abe,” you said, trying to keep your voice low. “Abe, the waiter—”

“Yeah, where is that guy?” Abe asked without looking up as he skimmed over a witness’s statement.

“He’s coming,” you hissed as the man in question backed through the door, still talking in the direction of the kitchen but sure to turn around any second. “That tattoo, he—”

“Do you think we could get one of these witnesses to do an imitation of their voices? Just to get a feel for how they talked?” Abe asked over you, clearly too wrapped up in his case to listen. You’d seen him get like this before, but you didn’t have time for it now.

“Pineapple!” you said, practically shouting the word.

“What, where?” Abe asked, looking down at his own clothes as if checking to make sure he hadn’t spilled any on himself.

“No—” You stopped, eyes on the waiter as he turned and started walking toward your table, head still angled toward the kitchen. You dropped your voice to a whisper and said, “Pineapple, the code word the Host suggested for _when something is bad and we need to get out of here right now_, remember?”

“Oh, right, after the thing with the serial killer’s house,” Abe said and froze.

“Wait, what?”

“Uh, I mean, look at these timestamps, these guys had to be professionals to get in and out like that,” Abe said, no longer listening and straight up babbling now as he tried to change the subject as fast as possible, and his voice was rising—

_And the waiter was coming this way, he would hear it all if you couldn’t get Abe to just stop talking for one minute—_

Desperate and with no time to think of an alternative, you lunged across the table and everything seemed to fall silent including Abe when your lips met his, one hand on the collar of his shirt while the other reached blindly for the folder. The kiss was stiff and awkward at first, but while you were focused on getting that folder shut before the waiter could see what was inside, Abe’s eyes softened and it was your turn to be surprised when he leaned into it.

It tasted like pineapple.

“Hey, if you two wanted a private room in the back all you had to do was ask.”

And suddenly the music from the jukebox was as loud as ever but still struggling to compete with your pounding heartbeat as you settled back into your seat and said, “Sorry.”

“No problem with me,” the waiter said. He glanced toward Abe and said, “Is he okay though?”

Abe was still sitting there, eyes wide, one hand raised about to where your head had been only a second ago.

“Yeah, we, uh,” you glanced at Abe, who was blinking and slowly returning to reality, and said, “We were just talking about how he needs to get out more.”

You pulled out your wallet and gave the waiter his money, telling him to keep the tip just before you added, “Cool tattoo. Where did you get it?”

“Oh, little place down the street my buddies and I all go to. But if you’re looking to get a tattoo, can I suggest maybe not doing anything with names?” He glanced toward Abe before lowering his voice to add confidentially with a wink, “I think you could do better.”

“What? Excuse you, I’m a—”

“Pineapple,” you said quickly and Abe immediately glanced down again for stray pieces of pineapple.

You waited until the bemused waiter was out of earshot before you said, “I think it might be time to go.”

Abe nodded, but it wasn’t until you were both safely outside that he asked, “Are we going to talk about…?”

“…Do you want to talk about it?”

There was another long pause where you both tried to look at each other and at the same time avoid each other’s eyes before Abe said, “So about that tattoo parlor—”

“Yeah, sounds good, let’s go,” you answered, a little too eagerly. “And maybe on the way we can talk about picking a different code word.”


End file.
